It's Quiet Uptown
by A chaotic person
Summary: "Her eyes were welling up with tears, and Jack wrapped an arm around her reassuringly, squeezing her gently. "What if it were you? Or mom? What would I do? It's just really... really sad, okay?"/"Hey, hey, I'm not gonna go anywhere."" In which Emma is upset, and Jack is only there to cheer her up once.


**Disclaimer: DreamWorks owns RotG, not me**.

The doors of the theater were pushed open and people spilled into the streets.

Jack stood, brown eyes blinking in the brilliant sunlight for a few seconds, before shaking his head and beginning to look for Emma in the mass of people.

Really, Jack had been lucky to get tickets for himself and his sister to see the show, even if it was a high school play and not the original on Broadway. It had been a good show, and he would have the music stuck in his head all over again, just like he did every time he listened to the soundtrack. Spotting Emma, he wove through the people remaining outside and grabbed her hand.

"So, what did you think?" He asked. She looked up at him, and he noticed her eyes were a little red, as though she'd cried.

"The first part was..." Emma thought for a moment, nose scrunching up. "Amazing. The second part was good too, but sad."

Jack nodded in agreement. "And the music?"

She glared at him, looking very cross. "I'm going to go _crazy_ when I forget the words. Thanks a lot for that."

He bumped her shoulder affectionately as they started the walk to the bus stop. It's was only a fifteen minute drive back to Burgess, but it would take at least an hour if they tried to walk, even if they didn't get lost. "You enjoyed the songs and you know it."

She huffed, crossing her arms and looking away. "You are no longer my favorite sibling."

Jack blinked. "Um... I'm your _only_ sibling."

"Well, you're doing a terrible job. Putting songs in my head that'll stay there for _weeks_." She grumbled.

Jack laughed, a loud, clear sound that had passerby glancing at the two brown-haired siblings for a moment. Quieting a bit, he said in a sing-song voice, "What can I say, except, you're welcome!"

Emma covered her ears as they approached the empty bus stop. "Jaaaaack, you need to _stop._ "

He laughed again, poking her nose to see her glare at him. He'd never tell her, but it made her look adorable, with her eyebrows drawn together and her hair fluffing up everywhere. Yeah, Emma was a small adorable puff of a sister.

"Were you crying?" He asked a few minutes later, checking his watch. The bus would hopefully be there soon.

Emma was quiet. "Hey," he said softly, tilting her chin up to look at her downcast eyes. "You okay?"

Her chin trembled. "It's just..." she started, "her son died, then her husband died, and one of her sisters disappeared or something. I..." her eyes were welling up with tears, and Jack wrapped an arm around her reassuringly, squeezing her gently. "What if it were you? Or mom? What would I do? It's just really... really sad, okay?" She seemed frustrated with her inability to express her feelings more eloquently.

"Hey, hey, I'm not gonna go anywhere. Not yet at least. And neither is mom. You'll be fine." He smiled at her, offering a tissue when it looked like she might try to wipe her nose on her shirt sleeve. "Besides, it's good you can sympathize with a character. That's good, uh, character growth. Or something. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention in English."

She giggled with a hiccup, fear defeated and sorrow vanquished, for now at least. The city bus pulled up, its digital sign reading BURGESS, and Jack pulled Emma on it.

"When we get back maybe we'll listen to the original soundtrack, how's that sound? Besides, mom'll want to know how it was."

Emma nodded, and they settled in their seats, the last words of the musical echoing in Jack's head.

" _...Who lives, who dies, who tells your story..._ "

* * *

It was hard, Emma reflected just over two years later. Burgess District High was putting on that same musical, still one of Jack's favorites, and Jack wasn't here anymore to participate in it, or even see it.

Emma herself had only just gotten off crutches, the same car that had taken Jack's life had snapped one of her legs and fractured her other. It was a good thing she preferred music to sports, she thought idly, otherwise she'd have been doomed. The pain of her leg had been nothing compared to the pain she felt hearing Jack scream as the car had run into him at high speeds. A drunk driver, she thought sourly. Emma was always extra careful crossing any road now, listening for the squealing of tires when she looked both ways, and walking quickly. Just in case.

She walked by the one of the school's drama rooms, and felt a pang in her chest hearing a few of them rehearsing. It was one of the sadder songs. Of course.

"...could trade his life for mine he'd be standing here right now. And you would smile. And that would be enough..."

Jack had sacrificed his life for hers, she thought bitterly. Did he know for certain he would die? she pondered. Maybe he didn't. He always used to have a way of getting out of the scrapes he landed himself in.

She felt tears prickling her eyes as the singers switched songs in the drama room behind her. She turned a corner and exited the school, swinging her instrument a little. Perhaps she'd visit him.

Making a snap decision she turned left instead of going straight towards home. As Emma drew close to the cemetery she drew in a deep breath, trying to steel herself against the despair she was knew would come. Instead, she smoothed the skirt of the schools uniform. Jack would have made fun of her for being stuck in the uniform while he was at college...

She approached his grave and sat down in the grass gingerly. Shrugging her backpack off, she placed it on the ground with her instrument.

"Hey Jack," she whispered struggling against the need to cry. It had only been a few months, sure, but Jack had always been strong for her. Now she would be strong for him, even if he wasn't there. Ignoring the tightening of her throat and the burning behind her eyes, she continued. "Did I tell you this year's musical yet? You won't believe it." She let out a breathy laugh, the sort of broken laughter when you don't find anything particularly funny but you just _can't_ allow yourself to cry. "It's your favorite." She looked down. "Not Les Misérables. Though there's talk of that being done in a few years..."

Emma glanced quickly at his grave, at the words _'Loving brother and son to the end. Keep laughing'_

What would he think, she wondered suddenly, that it was only those simple words left behind of him. Nothing really to describe him. You wouldn't know by looking at his grave that he had liked twirling her around the kitchen whenever suitable music was playing. You wouldn't know that he had wanted to be an actor, or at the very least on ski patrol (how those were related Emma had never known). There was nothing to suggest that he added vanilla to his hot chocolate, or that he cooled it down with lots of milk. Nothing really personal.

There were tears dripping down her face. The lack of personality would have made him frown. Emma sniffled, trying not to get snot everywhere. Jack would have found some paint and drawn a probably-horrible face on the back of the grave. Her chest heaved and she struggled to get air through her clogged nose. He would have laughed and pointed out that it wasn't disrespectful; it was his grave, wasn't it? Emma leaned against the gravestone, pulling her shirt up to wipe her eyes, though it was futile.

 _Keep laughing._ A sound of distress forced itself out of Emma's throat. Somehow, remembering Jack's laugh was the worst. Light, carefree, loud and bass, a soft chuckle at something stupid. The honest laugh he gave when she did something ridiculous, like trying to tie her hair into a big knot, holding something to support himself before helping her out.

She shook, gasping for air as more tears leaked from her eyes. "J-Jack," she inhaled, struggling to get enough air into her lungs to calm herself. "I, I miss you. There's so much, Jack. I miss hearing your r-ridiculous stories. I miss getting your letters when you would leave." Her voice shook and she wished in vain she had a pack of tissues. "You're g-gone, Jack, but you haven't sent me even a n-note. Th-th," She hiccuped. "T-that h-hurts. It's so much calmer without you here. More depressing. I-it's," Emma curled up against the gravestone, wishing it was her brother, and that he would wrap his arms around her like he did whenever she was scared, maybe distract her with a game, or at the very least make her laugh.

It was several minutes before tears stopped cascading down her face. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes and nose with her shirt sleeve before standing and gathering her things. "I-I'll see the musical, Jack." She promised. "I'll cry, but, I'll see it. For you."

Finally walking home with a stuffy nose, blotchy skin, and red eyes she listened to the streets. They seemed somehow quieter than before.

A remembered snatch of a song came back to her from the time she had last listened to the soundtrack with Jack. It seemed fitting. As she turned a corner and listens to the sounds of a small town, she sang softy to herself.

 _"It's quiet uptown..."_

* * *

 **A/N: Day 4 of RotG week: Alternate Universes!/Crossover. So I haven't actually listened to the whole Hamilton soundtrack yet (which is the musical they went to see and the musical Emma's school was performing), but It's Quiet Uptown still made me cry. And yeah, I know that in Hamilton the line is used because Phillip would have liked the quiet, but here Emma is using it to say that it's quiet without Jack around. Another thing: a lot of what Emma is sad about is similar to how I felt when someone in the family died a few years back. It's always the little things that hurt the worst.**


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